Clovers
by Ben Barrett and Nobody's Ghost
Summary: Stan loves Kyle, and an endless amount of pain is brought about because of that love.


**Clovers**

by Ben Barrett and Nobody's Ghost

A note from Ghost:

Ben came to me with about a page of this done, and we finished it on the same day. He had originally started writing it in 2008, but never went anywhere with it. We put quite a bit of effort into this one, and were up until about one in the morning.

* * *

><p>Stan and Kyle walked side-by-side through what looked to them like an endless sea of clover. Their hands were linked together so tightly that they could feel each other's heartbeats pulsing together in time, as if while joined together in this way, their very bodies had become one. They already considered themselves joined at the soul, so the idea that they could share the same sight, thoughts, and emotions really wasn't that big a leap for them.<p>

Kyle gave Stan's hand a gentle, affectionate squeeze, and felt himself overcome with joy when Stan returned it. He threw himself on Stan, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him deeply. His partner gave only a slight gasp of shock before returning the gesture greedily. They fell backwards into the clover, kissing and holding each other fiercely. They began to roll around, never breaking their embrace, loving the feeling of the cool greenery that had become their bed.

"God, Stan," Kyle whispered into his ear. "I love you."

Stan looked up at him with a happy grin on his face. The amazing sparkle in his eyes told Kyle how he felt before any words were ever spoken. There was a glow all over Stan's face whenever they linked eyes, or whenever they even got close to each other. It was a look that Stan hadn't even had when looking at Wendy Testaburger.

"I love you, too," Stan replied, bringing one hand up to one of Kyle's red curls and brushing it gently away from his eyes.

Kyle shuddered in pleasure and ground into Stan's crotch. Stan mewed and gave him a gentle thrust in response. Kyle could feel his arousal throbbing beneath his clothes and knew that Stan wanted him badly. He'd give him what he wanted in good time, but first there would be teasing. He couldn't just let Stan fuck him without making him work for it; there just wouldn't be any fun in it. Besides, teasing him and giving his sexual leash a jerk every now and then made for better sex.

"Naughty, naughty," Kyle growled, sitting down firmly on Stan. "You know the rules."

Kyle worked Stan's arousal like a pro, moving slow yet firm, back and forth. Stan closed his eyes and sighed. If Kyle kept on doing that, he would blow his load before he even got his pants off.

"You're so amazing," he said.

Kyle raised Stan's shirt and Stan raised up to make its removal easier. Kyle began kissing up Stan's naked torso, from his waist to his navel, then up his belly.

"Kyle…" Stan whispered. "Kyle…"

"Yes, Stan?"

"I want to know—"

Stan woke up in his bedroom. He'd had the clover field dream again. He had that one frequently. Ever since Kyle had rejected him two months previous, this fantasy haunted him at night. As pleasant as it was (and he always had to change his clothes after waking), it also tormented him. He'd always thought Kyle loved him back. They had always been so close. Close enough that people had wondered about them. Even his father told him as a young boy not to spend so much time with Kyle, lest people think they were "funny."

The clover dream was the result of a longtime daydream he'd had. He'd always wanted to walk hand-in-hand through such a field with the one he loved more than anything in the world. And now that would never be.

Kyle had not spoken to Stan since he was informed of his best friend's feelings for him. It was an odd change for Stan, not speaking to your best friend in two months was difficult.

He missed him.

Stan tugged at his pants and his boxers until he was able to shimmy out of them. He threw them across his bedroom and rolled over, not bothering to put anything else on. He looked at the empty place beside him… where Kyle should be. He caressed the pillow softly with his fingertips, wishing for his love to be curled up next to him, resting his sweet head soundly on the pillow.

_I love you, Kyle_, he thought.

Rolling back over, he looked at the clock: 2:30 AM. Stan needed to get back to sleep, it was only Tuesday, and he had another dreadful three days of school ahead of him that he was not looking forward to. The black-haired male wished he could just sleep forever. Sleep until he was dead, and then he would _really _be asleep. Plus, he knew he had to face Kyle tomorrow, since their lockers were right next to each other like they always had been.

It was Stan's junior year in high school, and he didn't even know if he wanted to graduate. Graduating meant… never seeing his beloved again. Never seeing his bright-green eyes, or his messy red hair… never speaking… the list went on and on. He figured that he was the only student who actually _dreaded _graduating from high school.

_He'll go on and do all these great things and I'll be left here in South Park to rot. He won't even remember me after a few years._

This was a bit self-indulgent, but he didn't care. He'd had his heart shattered repeatedly by Wendy, the last time when she'd had sex with Clyde. That had been it for him. Of course, his heart had never really been in the relationship anyway. If he was going to be honest with himself, he'd always been in love with Kyle, even while he was going through the motions with Wendy. And now Kyle wanted nothing to do with him. He was alone, and it hurt.

He picked up his Android off the nightstand and checked his Facebook app, knowing already that there would be nothing. When Stan had revealed his true feelings, Kyle had first unfriended him, then blocked him. He should have stopped hoping that this would change after the first couple of weeks, yet he still found himself checking his messages, hoping that Kyle might have unblocked him and sent him something.

And to his surprise, tonight he actually had.

_I'll be up all night, Stan. If you get this before tomorrow, message me back. We need to talk._

His heart leaped and he began tapping furiously at the screen, trying not to sound too desperate. Play it cool, not scare him off.

_Of course. When do you want to talk?_

Seconds later:

_Stark's Pond. One hour._

Then Kyle's name went black again. He had blocked him once more.

Stan jumped to his feet and threw on some clothes. He pulled on his jacket, mittens and hat (the red poofball was long gone, replaced by a simple beanie). He grabbed his wallet and phone and dashed out the door like the house was burning down around him.

_Finally, _he thought. _He's finally talking to me. But what about? Why the sudden change?_

It was cold out tonight, much colder than usual. He shivered as the night air cut through his thick coat. It seemed like South Park was stuck in an ice age. Even when the sun was shining and the grass was green, it was still under three feet of snow. He'd said that once or twice in his life, and it was still true. The powder rarely melted away entirely. It was one of the things he'd never learned to like about the Park. Even spending seventeen years of his life here hadn't given him an appreciation for the climate.

Stan made his way towards the pond, or, what was left of it. The town stopped cleaning up the pond because they had to make "budget cuts" or something like that, so nobody maintained it anymore. You could barely even sit on the single bench anymore that had sat there for so long because the wood was rotting and it could give way at any moment. With every breath he took, a big cloud of white oxygen came out of his mouth.

_Why does it have to be so fucking cold?_

He stood there bouncing back and forth, trying to keep warm. He checked his phone often, but it had only taken him five minutes to leave the house and ten minutes to get there. Forty-five minutes of anticipation. Then forty-two. Then thirty-eight.

_God damn, this is taking forever._

He thought about growing up with Kyle, about how close they'd been. They had been like brothers, damn near inseparable. _Damn_ near. It had only taken a confession of homosexual feelings to send Kyle running for the hills. And why? Kyle had always been so tolerant of gay people, other religions, the disabled; he'd been an accepting and understanding person. What had changed him like this?

Another peek at the phone. Twenty minutes. More pacing, pondering, reminiscing. Then it was ten minutes. More debating over whether he had done the right thing by telling Kyle (this happened frequently during his waking hours) knocked it down to five. Then-

"I figured you'd be here way earlier than I told you," a familiar voice called out from behind him. He turned and there was Kyle, looking irritated at him. He was fine with that. It was better than the apathy he'd been getting recently.

"Yeah, you know me well," Stan said.

"Uh huh. Wanna take a guess why I called you here?" Kyle replied. "Nevermind. I'm sure you've been guessing since I messaged you. I need you to stop acting so crazy."

"What do you mean?"

"What I _mean_," Kyle said, "is that Kenny and Butters tell me you hardly ever leave your room. You check your phone all the time to see if I had a change of heart. You look at that stupid picture of me all the time. It's not healthy."

Stan was speechless, he had been _really _hoping that Kyle had called him here because he had had a change of heart. His hopes were instantly crushed.

"I-I do—"

"I know you don't know what to say," Kyle sighed. "Just stop all of this. Move on, Stan. That's all you can do, because you and me," he said motioning back and forth between him and Stan, "is never gonna happen."

Stan couldn't even look him in the face now, so he stared at his shoes instead. They seemed more inviting than Kyle's face.

"We… we can't even be friends?" He said, glancing up at Kyle.

"How could we _possibly _remain friends after what I know now?"

"I-I guess you're right…"

There was silence between them, the only noise was the breeze blowing through the air.

"I have to go, Stan," Kyle said finally. "You can stop checking your phone all the time, because I won't be sending any more messages. And _please _stop giving me those stupid puppy dog eyes every time you see me. I have to put up with it for now, because my locker is next to yours, but I'm going to put in a request tomorrow to have my locker changed."

Stan said nothing. This hurt more than he dared show.

"Yeah, so," Kyle finished. "See ya. Or not."

Kyle only got ten steps away when Stan called after him.

"What happened to tolerance, Kyle? Is it fine for people to be gay as long as they're people you don't know?"

Kyle stopped but did not turn to face him.

"You know that's not it."

"Then tell me."

Kyle sighed and slowly turned back.

"You know what happened when you told me you had feelings for me?" he said. "You didn't even tell me in private. You told me at homecoming. There were several people around. Word got around, Stan. It got back to my mom. She screamed at me, started quoting Leviticus. She wanted to put me in a straight camp."

"Jesus, Kyle," Stan said. "I didn't know they made those for Jews."

"They don't," Kyle replied. "She was going to send me to a straight camp and have me ignore the parts about Jesus. It doesn't make a bit of sense, but you know how crazy she can get. And none of that would have happened if you'd had the courtesy to tell me in private, or at least not around a dozen other people."

"Kyle, I'm—"

"Yeah, yeah. You're sorry and blah, blah, blah. Well you can save it, Stan," Kyle said, turning back around and beginning to walk away again.

Stan didn't call out for him this time, and now he stood all alone… yet again. This was not unusual, though. He figured that it would be best if he, too went home. It was almost four in the morning now. He had to get up for school in a couple hours.

_Maybe I'll fake sick or something._

Everything reminded him of Kyle, and he couldn't help that. What really bothered him now was that he had told Kyle in such a public place and almost ruined his life, and knowing that if he had just told him in private, they might have had a chance to still be friends.

_But I fucked that up, too._

Stan walked home in silence, tears flowing down his cheeks as he trudged through the snow. There was no way to fix this, no way to make it better. His lifelong friendship with Kyle, his dreams of being something more, were all gone. He would go back home and climb into his bed once more. He would cry himself to sleep as he had done many times over the last two months. And in his sleep, he would travel again to that fantasy world where everything was perfect, where he and Kyle were in love and walking through a field of endless clovers.


End file.
